My Little Boy
by Bexiekun
Summary: As Bulma watches five year old Trunks play, she knows that one day, he'll be fighting those androids. One day, he might not come home. Mirai timeline.


As I watch my innocent young son play with his toys, I feel nothing but sadness. I guess that's an unusual way for a mother to feel, but I can't help but think about how he won't be innocent for long. I'm sure that's a thought that crosses every mother's mind at some point or other, but for me, it's so much more terrifying.

Those androids are still out there, destroying everything they can, killing countless people. Right now, Gohan is the only one anywhere near strong enough to challenge them – but even he is no match. He trains almost constantly these days to get stronger, and whenever he hears of an android attack, he's off, flying there to fight them, and every time, it ends the same way - with Gohan in hospital.

I know one day, my little boy will be fighting, too. I know that he must. He's half-Saiyan, too. One day, he'll probably be a Super Saiyan, just like Gohan, and Goku, and Vegeta. If anything were to happen to Gohan, it would be up to my son to try and protect the world. Plus, he's Vegeta's son – so of course, he's going to end up fighting. I know this. I've always known it.

But that doesn't mean I have to like it, and accept it. It's hell, watching a beat-up Gohan slowly recovering after every battle with the androids. He's still so young himself, barely even fifteen. But every time he goes off to fight, there's a very large possibility that he won't be coming back.

I don't want that for my son. But I know that how much I don't want it doesn't matter – it's going to happen. My little Trunks is five years old. As he sits there, happily playing with his toy robots, I find it hard to believe that he's the same age that Gohan was when he was fighting Frieza on Namek. I suppose I should be thankful that he's not already involved in battles for the universe, just like Gohan was.

I finally understand how Chichi feels. You don't understand, until you become a mother. I remember us all getting so frustrated with her, when she would refuse to allow Gohan to train, not understanding how she could keep ranting about his studies when the world was in danger. Now I do. She didn't want to see her child get hurt. She just wanted him to have a normal, happy life. I think her obsession with Gohan's studies was her way of trying to make that happen – trying to cling to some sense of normality. Gohan may be a super-strong half-alien, but he was still her little boy, and she tried so hard to give him a normal life. She wanted him to get a good education, a good job. She didn't want him to only know fighting, like Goku did. But it backfired in her face. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop it. She can't stop Gohan from fighting anymore, he's all the world has left. And he's determined to save it, no matter what.  
>Poor Chichi is a wreck now. She looks like she's aged two decades in the past few years from all the worry, terrified that at any moment she could lose her only child. And one day, I'll have to go through the same terror.<p>

Gohan's been asking me a lot lately whether he can start training Trunks. I've let him teach him the basics, like flying, and how to start controlling his ki – mainly because I was scared he'd blow the house up otherwise, I haven't forgotten how Gohan's power could just explode out of him sometimes. But I'm reluctant to allow it to go any further. To let Trunks finally start learning to fight properly... it'd be like I'll finally be letting him go. That I've accepted the fact one day, I'll have to watch him go off to fight, just like Chichi has to watch Gohan. I'm not ready for that. I want Trunks to stay like this for as long as possible. But I know it won't last – Trunks wants to start training, too. He wants to fight, to help people.

I know that my son will be a big, strong warrior, like his father. I know he'll be risking his life on a daily basis, fighting those androids. I know I'll have to prepare myself for the fact that one day, he might not come home.

I get up from my chair, and drop to my knees beside Trunks, gathering him tightly in my arms. He looks up at me, confused and worried. His expressions always seem far too serious for a boy of his age.  
>It's not fair. I know Chichi feels the same. Why should the fate of the world rest on our sons' shoulders? Why do they have to bear it alone? Why do we have to watch our children fight, and be in pain, and possibly die? Why can't we just have normal lives? It's not fair. <em>It's not fair.<em>

I know that one day, my son will fight those monsters. But not yet.

I want to keep my little boy just a while longer.

**End.**


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